


We Were Infinite

by Brain_Flower



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Coffee, College, Fighting, M/M, Music, Tea, Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brain_Flower/pseuds/Brain_Flower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before leaving, the guy smiles and says, “I’m Adam, and I’m gay.” I guess referring to her pet name. Abigail does that to anyone though, girls her age, guys two times older, it’s not something that you can over think on, you call someone babe, or honey without thinking twice, and most of the people you say it to don’t think about it either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Were Infinite

-We Were Infinite- 

I don’t really like anything. I am content with the idea of doing nothing, being nothing, and living for nothing. That’s not to say I’m depressed and want to die, I just learned early in life that a) there is no way to please the whole world, and or every single body at one time, and b) In the end we all die, so life is a diagnoses, and death is the end. 

I think about death a lot, just because I think a lot, and my thoughts have no filter so whatever it decides it’s gonna think about it usually does. Apparently my mind really likes the thought of death, and how I’m going to die, or how it’s going to die. My mind could die and I could be alive and crazy, because it’s lost and can’t find me. That would be good…I think. 

I don’t mention my thoughts to my parents though, they think I have enough problems not wanting to live for something, to talk about death would confirm their thoughts, they would send me to talk to someone about my ‘issues’ and ‘problems.’ 

I do have friends though-that my parents don’t believe in-I just don’t talk about them much. Because I feel that if I talked about them, I would be judgmental, and I’ve been trying to hold back on my judging. It’s a big turn off to look at someone you don’t like for a stupid reason and pick out everything you find wrong with them. You don’t know what’s going on in that person’s life, they may look pretty and perfect on the outside, but maybe their thoughts are tearing them to shreds on the inside, and they just want a way out. 

I also try not to make a direct connection with any specific person, for fear of hurting them in the end. I keep a handful of people at reaching distance, but I don’t have any best friends, I can’t imagine promising someone the world and then letting them down, that would hurt a lot. And sometimes I wish, I really do wish that there was someone that I could tell all my secrets to but what if something happened? 

What if I had to live without them? How do I live without you? How do I breathe without you? How do I ever survive? Knowing that they were gone forever out of reach, and that they held all of my secrets, and they could keep them, or they could use them against me. 

People say I have trust issues…

I think I have a good point. 

So I decided after a while that I am better off and much happier when I am by myself and not attached to someone and craving them all the time. And I am content doing nothing, except drinking tea, and over thinking. So really I’m not good for anything. I don’t give good advice, or provide comfort very well, or say the perfect things at the perfect moments. I’m just good at over thinking, about death. 

Sweet…what a great and unique quality. Please tell us more, any opinions? High and mighty ones are our favorite, we feed on these, these ones pull us in and we love you more for your opinions. The ones that stay in your judgmental, messed up head, and only slip out through your badly filtered, fucked up, and never satisfied mouth. 

Let’s recap. I over think, I’m a judgmental fuck up, and I don’t like to getting close to people. 

Also…death is an acquaintance of mine. But it’s working its way up. 

-_\/\/_-Siren Jax-_\/\/_-

Even though I would be content doing nothing, my parents think it’s unhealthy, so I hold a job at a music store where all kinds of people come in, look through every album twice, try to remember if they know any of the songs, and either leave empty handed or with a grand total of two items, and a compliment that goes along the lines of, “This place is so great, I’ll be back real soon” but we never see them. 

Also despite my strong opinions on having friends, I do have one person I’m closed to. I work with a blonde girl that probably fits in better with the gothic clothes stores, but says music is her life, and the people working in the places she shops at are posers and she’d rather shove a dog up her butt. I think that’s a very odd thing to say. 

Every day I work Abigail is there before me, leaning against the counter, drinking Starbucks coffee, elbows propped against the counter and held tilted back so that no effort is placed into the coffee drinking. “If coffee drinking was an Olympic Sport…I would win gold metals every year and be rich and famous.” She tells me sometimes.

I go along with it, “If over thinking was an Olympic Sport I’d win gold metals.” And she laughs and says, “Sometimes, Tommy Joe, I wonder what goes on in your head that you consider over thinking. I wish I could read your thoughts.” But I don’t think she could handle my thoughts rushing at her all at once. 

Either way Abigail always has tea for me, because she is a good person, and if I had to spit opinions up daily I would trust her the most to understand me, and to comment right along with it. And then for the rest of the day we help people find what they need, and make small talk, and Abigail makes quiet comments on girls that come in with skirts too short, and shirts too tight. 

“Tommy Joe Ratliff.” She tells me today, lazily pushing a to-go cup of tea across the counter at me. She doesn’t stand up straight, she hasn’t finished her coffee, the caffeine hasn’t kicked into her system yet. “I think we open shop way too early, we should talk to the boss dude, tell him only crazy people shop at malls this early.” 

“You say that, but people wait for shops to open in their cars, to-go coffee in hand, sweat pants, and tennis shoes, ready to spend the whole day buying shit that’ll get put in the back of their closets and never worn.” I leaned against the counter with her, and engaged in the sport of ‘extreme hot caffeine drinking.’ As Abigail called it. 

“A beautiful sport.” She sighs into the steam, “Quiet now, let’s over think and wait for the crowd of dead heads to come in looking for country albums.” And we did. 

And I decided Death…is a friend of mine. 

-_\/\/_-Siren Jax-_\/\/_-

On the third day I worked in the same week, with tea every morning beside my blonde partner, who started doing newspaper crosswords with her coffee, I noticed a group of-maybe-sixteen year olds come in, multiple times, laughing like they wanted our attention, and acting care free and happy. 

Abigail raised her fake glasses to rest on top of her head, put down her pencil and looked up at the group, “Well…these guys are promising.” She glances over at me and I know the remark was sarcastic. “Listen, if it comes down to it, I’ll cover your ass if you cover mine.” I owed her anyways from all the tea she bought me without question, so I agreed. 

But besides being loud an annoying they weren’t too bad. No one stopped to make comments about Abigail and I out loud, and as far as we’re concerned they judged us in their heads as we judged them in ours. Despite the lot of them saying multiple times more than once, “Oh I love this album. I should get it” only one of them actually came to the front to actually pay for something. 

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” Abigail asked, glancing down at a list of appropriate and friendly things to say to the people in the store. Abigail stuck it there to remind herself that being rude got her in trouble with the boss, so typing a list of friendly shit, kept her in check, and with a paycheck every week. 

Abigail and I switch back and forth every day saying fake nice things to people, and placing a maximum of two items in a bag with our store name written in ugly red letters. And the second I looked up at the guy standing in front of the counter I was really glad it wasn’t my day because I would have been a big embarrassment, and Abigail would have raised one corner of her mouth, narrowed her eyes and said, “You think he’s cute, don’t you?” 

I do not have close friends though, I will not let anyone down and I will not be a disappointment. So despite the guys pretty blue eyes, and dyed black hair, I told myself that in the end no matter what happens he’ll be gone, and I won’t be able to do anything about it. So I just watched Abigail bag a Queen, and a Killers album, and say, “Thanks babe, come back.” 

Before leaving, the guy smiles and says, “I’m Adam, and I’m gay.” I guess referring to her pet name. Abigail does that to anyone though, girls her age, guys two times older, it’s not something that you can over think on, you call someone babe, or honey without thinking twice, and most of the people you say it to don’t think about it either. 

“I’m Abigail, and I wasn’t hitting on you.” She says in reply, “I kind of figured you were gay by the make-up and pretty face. Guys like you aren’t my type anyways. I’m not really sure I have a type, I just see someone and I think they’re cute, I guess I like girls too, I’ve never thought about it, but I know that there are some pretty hot girls around. Whatever, I don’t have time for love.” She shrugs, “This is my work partner Tommy Joe, he’s not my friend though, Tommy refuses to have friends. I think he just has a fear of letting people down.” 

“Well that’s not fun. Here, we’ll work things out Abigail, you and I, and by the end of the summer Tommy will have friends, and be over that fear of his.” He scribbled his number on a piece of paper and handed it to Abigail, before walking out with his group of friends. 

“Bam! Tommy Joe. That’s how you get a cute guys number.” She said, high-fiving herself when I left her hanging. “I bet you totally thought he was cute, he is so not my type, but he was cute as hell, and I totally think you’d be cute with him. Ugh, we’re gonna talk all night about you, you’ll see, I’ll make you happy Tommy Joe Ratliff. Now, take over for me, I’m going to get us tacos for lunch, it’ll be sweet.” 

I watched her leave, and death seemed to be looking more like a close friend, rather than just a friend…

-_\/\/_-Siren jax-_\/\/_-

“When I was little, and still living with my parents that I hate” Abigail says, filling in her newspaper crossword puzzle, “I made a promise to God that I would be famous, but first I promised to kill my parents, so that anyone with the last name of Cooper could be happy, because there were two less of them to worry about. But I don’t really believe in God anymore, so now what? Do I keep the promise because I made it to someone I don’t believe in anymore, or do I forget it because it was a childish thing?”

“That’s why I don’t like promises.” I whispered, “I think eventually you’ll be famous for something, promise or not, you’re strong willed and stupid, so you’ll be known even if it’s only in the case of fifteen minutes of fame.” I smiled, “You’ll be on the evening news talking about the tragic death of the Coopers.” 

She giggles, “This is what I want. I want to be a lesbian, and I want to move to a sleepy southern town, where I can wear overalls to church and go barefoot. I’m going to sit in the back of the service with my two kids, and my wife, we’ll live in a cute country house in the middle of a corn field, because we’re horror movie freaks as you know and corn fields are creepy, and we’re going to raise goats, sheep, cows, and horses. And it’ll be beautiful.” 

“And even though you don’t believe in God, you’ll attend church every Sunday.” 

“Yeah…and we’ll have a house phone attached to the wall so that I can call you and spin my fingers in the cord, and my kids will run down the hall and laugh and play in the corn field, and we’ll be infinite.” She sighs, “Well now that I live by myself, I guess I can do that whenever I want, but I’m going to spend a few more years here with you watching stupid girls try to impress hot gay guys with their knowledge of music.” 

It was quiet for a while and my thoughts started to drift to my future and how I was going to end, where I would be and if I would ever be with anyone, or if I would be lifelong partners with death. “I talked to Adam last night.” Abigail interrupted my thoughts. “He’s really sweet. I’ll cover you here if you go get us lunch.” 

As I walked out the door she called after me, “You have a date this Friday with him! You can’t say no, you can’t bail, and you can’t get sick. It’s at a coffee shop, you can order tea, I told him chamomile makes you sleepy and peppermint isn’t your favorite.” 

I didn’t answer, I turned around rolled my eyes at her and then left to go get us lunch, and I linked my arm with Death’s. 

-_\/\/_-Siren Jax-_\/\/_-

I didn’t bail on Friday, I went with death by my side and no hopes up. Abigail already had the whole thing planned, down to what we were going to talk about and the tea I was going to drink. And it all went according to plan, and I left with Adam saying, “I want to show you what it’s like to be friends but if it takes a long time I don’t mind. I’ll wait to fall in love with you. Tell me when it’s okay, and then I’ll be yours and I won’t let you down.” 

It was the closest thing I’ve heard to a promise that wasn’t actually a promise, so I accepted it, to think about later when I was taking a shower or by myself in my room. Abigail called later and asked how my date was. 

I told her it wasn’t a date and quoted the last thing he said to me and she made this noise like it was the cutest most romantic thing she’d ever heard in her life. “It was so a date by the way.” She said when she was done with her noises, “Open up a little bit baby, let someone befriend you, and romance you, and buy you stupid gifts that mean nothing. Let’s celebrate your two week anniversary with cake, that I will of course make, and, yeah, come on Tommy Joe!” 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I told her, “We don’t have an anniversary, we’re not going to buy stupid gifts, and we’re not going to be happily ever after the end.” 

“That’s what you say, Tommy Joe. But you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” And with that she hung up, and I knew she wasn’t done. I stayed up late letting the TV flash horror movies, but I wasn’t watching, I was over thinking like I always do, and this time it wasn’t about death, it was about Adam. 

And that’s dangerous, because I knew I was falling for Adam faster than I wanted to. Not that I actually wanted to…

-_\/\/_-Siren Jax-_\/\/_-

Abigail apparently wasn’t satisfied with my lack of details the previous night when she called me, so with tea and coffee, and morning newspaper crossword puzzles, I told her everything she wanted to know. I told her that everything she wanted us to talk about and do, was done, and I quoted Adam again, and then she asked me how I felt about everything. 

I lied and told her everything was fine, but she didn’t believe me for a second. “You may be a good liar, but I know bullshit, Tommy Joe Ratliff. Seriously, how do you feel about it? I won’t make you go out to coffee with him again if you seriously had a problem with it, but I want you to be happy and it seems you never are. I mean I know you say you aren’t depressed, but honestly you aren’t happy either.” She turns around and boosts herself up on the counter, and I turn and lean against it, looking up at her. 

“Okay…to be completely honest…I really do like him, and I guess that I don’t really like that I’ve already kind of maybe fallen for him, when I told myself I’d never get close to anyone ever because in the end nothing lasts forever, and it’s the first person that I’ve truly liked in a long time, apart from you, I suppose.” It’s that on the job, down low whisper, and we both glance around the store occasionally to make sure no one needs help or is listening in. 

Abigail smiles a little bit and lets out this half giggle, half affectionate love noise and says, “Tommy Joe Ratliff, you little monster, you are so falling in love and I’m not even going to let you stop it. Do you know why?” 

“Why?” I ask, even though I knew the answer. 

“Because he’s going to make you happy and that’s something I don’t see as often as I want to. See, tough love right? What are friends for after all, Tommy? You think he’s cute don’t you, he’s eyes are really pretty, he’s not awkward is he? You didn’t get into an awkward silence at the coffee shop and freak out a little bit. When that happens I just say something completely random, anything usually works, me and this one guy talked about how hot Shelley Duvall was for hours. He was a hot dude…two bad he cheated on me. That lying twat waffle.” She trails off, “Anyways, back to you.” 

I learned early on while working with Abigail that she had an extensively made up vocabulary, in which she takes an insult such as twat or douche, and adds a word such as waffle or twinkle. I liked her creativity with her words though, so I never said anything. “I mean all guys and girls even have a few bad qualities, maybe he’s got halitosis, did you smell his breath? Or maybe he’s got a really small dick, not that sex is in the question right now…I have bad qualities, I’m really harsh sometimes, I tell it like I see it and sometimes telling the straight up truth hurts people’s feelings, I’m just trying to be honest, but people like lies sprinkled in with their truths. And you over think and most of the time it’s about dying.” 

“I don’t have halitosis, but I kind of have this thing for pushing cute boys to go out with me until they get so annoyed they say yes to get me off their backs.” I have never seen Abigail move so fast, but in about two seconds she was turned around on the counter on her knees, fist drawn back ready to hit the living shit out of Adam for scaring her. “Settle down, babe.” he held up his hands and Abigail breathed out, visibly relaxing and running her hands through her long blonde hair. 

“Shit, you fucking dick face, you obviously want to see me fall out and die from a massive heart attack. You must be happy with yourself, listening in on our conversation about you.” She pushed at his shoulder and then climbed off the counter, skirt bouncing lightly, and boots making a soft noise on the floor. 

“Well I actually came in a while ago.” He says, holding up two different albums with bright colored covers, “I haven’t listened to your whole conversation, I caught the end of it, waiting for you to turn around and let me pay for this music a friend wants for their birthday.” 

“I disapprove of their music taste.” Abigail says shaking her head, “But as long as it’s not your music taste. So you’re pushy?” She asks not looking up at him. “Well I’ll have to write that down in the description I’m making of you in case something bad happens and I have to do something bad to you.” She smiles. 

He smiles back, “So you’re brutally honest? Well guess I’ll start a description of you in case I have to do the same.” I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the counter, I wasn’t going to fall for him, not today. 

“Lunch?” I ask, looking for any excuse to leave. 

“Tacos.” Abigail mutters, and barely glances up, “Wait…isn’t it kind of early for lunch?” I didn’t answer, too late. 

Death followed close behind, shadowing over me. 

-_\/\/_-Siren Jax-_\/\/_-

Abigail called later and said that she completely understood why I left and that she explained it to Adam and he’s not upset, even though I honestly wasn’t worried about how they were feeling, only about how I was. She stayed on the phone until I told her I was going to pass out if she didn’t shut her face up. She didn’t shut up for another five minutes, and then she finally told me to sleep well. 

I didn’t…my thoughts didn’t settle down long enough. 

When I got home from work, my sister Lisa was home from college, visiting. She stayed long enough that I got her alone and got to explain to her everything that was going on at work and all the shit Abigail got me into. Her first question was, “You, Tommy Joe Ratliff, are telling me that you are crushing on a guy, for the first time ever?” And then she stopped and said “I forgot you don’t have friends…or crushes…or boyfriends or whatever.” 

“But I like him and I don’t want to.” I hid behind a pillow on the couch in her old room, “Lisa…what am I supposed to do?” 

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, Tommy Joe Ratliff.” She said, and took the pillow away from me, “First, you’re going to stop hiding, and you’re going to promise me you’ll do everything I say.” 

“I don’t make promises.” 

“Tonight you will, and you will keep it.” She meant it. 

“I promise.” I told her. 

“Pinky promise?” 

“Pinky promise.” I said linking our fingers together. 

“Now…I’m going to tell you the same thing Abigail probably tells you over and over again. You are going to act like a normal high-school boy and you are going to have fun and be happy and you going to let yourself like this guy, and next time you see him, you are going to set up some kind of date with him, and as you quoted him earlier, you are going to tell him that he is allowed to like you and fall in love with you. But most importantly you are going to stop those thoughts about death and you’re going to have friends.” She played with my hair as she said it, “Does that sound fair enough?” 

“Not really.” I told her, “But I promised and as much as I hate promises, I won’t break it.” 

“You can’t break a pinky promise anyways.” She smiled, “That’s serious shit, when we were kids we’d do pretty brutal things to each other if we broke pinky promises. I spit on you that one time and you bit my arm really hard when I didn’t let you watch those damn horror movies.” 

She says she’ll be home for a few days so I don’t have to worry about her being gone when I get home from work tomorrow. I go to bed and for the first time in a long time I don’t think about death, or dream about it for that matter. 

Abigail couldn’t be happier with everything Lisa said. Adam didn’t call Abigail the night before and he didn’t come into the store for anything, not even to talk. 

Lisa said she wasn’t going to leave me alone until I had a date with Adam. She said if she had to leave before it happened she’d call me every night until I was fucking over her. She’d still call after that though. 

The next morning there was no coffee, or tea, or morning crossword puzzles. There was no call from Adam the previous night, there was no Adam, there was no date, and there was an unhappy Lisa. Abigail was worried. I pushed food around on my plate at dinner, and I pushed death away from me. Lisa stayed quiet…

On the third day with no word from Adam, Abigail finally broke down and called him herself. She said his mom answered and said he was asleep, but she’d tell him he got a call. Abigail told Mrs. Lambert to invite him over to her apartment for coffee if he could. Lisa and I both went, and Abigail apologized for the lack of tea in the morning. 

I told her I was pissed even though she knew I wasn’t really. 

Adam didn’t show…Abigail told Lisa about her parents, Lisa told her about college classes, and I drank tea and refused to let death creep into my thoughts. Tomorrow was Lisa’s last day, she’d leave in the afternoon after I got home from work. 

Abigail had tea and coffee and a crossword puzzle. “He said he had the flu.” Was the first thing she said, “But I don’t believe that bullshit for a minute. Even if you felt like shit, you could have at least called me and told me you felt like shit. I mean his mom didn’t even say ‘he’s sick, I’ll have him call you when he feels better’ What kind of shit is that?” I wasn’t given a chance to answer, “I mean come on, I thought he died or something and then I was about to be pissed. If he died and left I was going to bring him back and then kill him again. You sure as hell would have been in that damn funk again.” 

“Who thinks about death now, Abigail?” I smirked into the to-go coffee cup. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

I didn’t…

Abigail did not put her newspaper down when Adam came in and said, “I heard you were worried about me, babe.” 

“Well here’s the thing, twat waffle.” She said from behind the paper, “I wasn’t worried so much about you, as I was about Tommy. I was worried about you, because I might have killed you had you kept your sick story from me another day. But this time it would have been my shitting fault if you were gone, and Tommy decided his fucking best friend was death again.” And as I watched her slam the paper down on the counter and look Adam dead in the eyes I realized how much she really did care about me. 

“Calm down, I’m not going anywhere.” But I felt bad for anyone that had to experience an angry Abigail. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down! Why didn’t you just call? Why didn’t you call me once and say you felt like shit and you’d call me back when you felt like rolling over in bed wasn’t going to kill you? Not that Tommy has been too terribly upset, but you two have to seriously talk.” 

“I didn’t call because I’ve had friends in the past that refuse to leave me alone when I’m sick. They think it’d be nice to come stay with me and make sure I’m okay.” 

“So you decided that dropping off the surface of the earth for a few days would make people less suspicious?” Abigail asked.

“Yeah…” Adam nodded, “Guess it sounds shitty now. I’m sorry if I scared you or made you think I was dead, or just ditching you or whatever your head lead you to believe.” 

She sighed, rolled her eyes and muttered, “I forgive you. Now talk to Tommy about serious things. I’ll give you ten minutes to be alone while I get lunch and if something isn’t worked out when I get back, I’m going to kill you Adam, and I’m going to spit in your mouth Tommy.” 

“That’s cruel and unusual punishment.” Adam started to say, but Abigail was already out the door, her lanyard with her name tag on it lying on the counter. Instead he turned to me, “Are you okay?” 

“At first I wasn’t.” I told him honestly, “But my sister came home from college for a few days and you disappeared for a little while and it gave me some time to think about things other than death and refusing to not get close to anyone. And when I got some time with her I told her about going to get coffee with you and how I kind of maybe let myself like you more than I normally would like someone. And then she made me pinky promise and, Adam I can’t break a pinky promise.” 

“The horrors of breaking a pinky promise.” I wasn’t sure if he meant it sarcastically or not. “What was this promise?” 

I finally looked up at him rather than at the counter, “To let you like me and fall in love with me and date me, and to let myself do the same thing.” 

“And are you in this one hundred percent?” He leaned over the counter. 

I rolled my eyes and blew my hair out of my eyes, “Yes.” 

“For real?” 

“Seriously.” 

He smiled and stood up to kiss me quickly over the counter, “I feel privileged to be the first then.”He said right as Abigail walked in. 

She smiled, “I don’t want to ruin any moments or anything, but I have tacos, and Adam you’re staying for lunch.” 

“I’d love to.” He stayed, and was waiting for us when we closed and started towards the parking lot. 

“I’m really proud of you.” Abigail said before we all left, “I’d give you a ride home, but he’s got a car, and he needs to meet Lisa before she goes back to school.” She hugged me and then Adam, said something to him I didn’t catch, and then left. 

Adam took my hand and we walked to his car, “I’m meeting your family?” 

“Guess so.” 

“Alright then…let’s go.” 

It is a risk to love. What if it doesn’t work out? But what if it does…

**Author's Note:**

> I have finished! ^^ Okay a) I feel like I switched tenses a lot, so if I did, I’m so extremely sorry it’s tacky I know, but I’m not going to worry too much about it. B) this prompt was ‘death is a friend’ which came to me for some reason, not during any kind of morbid time. And C) The last sentence was a quote from Peter McWilliams, that was modified. I tried to beta this every time I opened the document to continue it, but if there are any mistakes I apologize. Review-Siren jax.


End file.
